"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"

A New Mission

Stepping out of the Assassin’s Guild, Seraphis adjusted the gloves on her hands, feeling the cool night air brush against her skin. The city's streets stretched ahead, dimly illuminated by scattered lanterns, but she paid no attention to the scenery.

She had work to do.

Beside her, the twins moved in perfect synchronization, their eyes locked ahead, sensing the shift in the air. Their last mission had been smooth, but smooth was not enough. They needed a real challenge—something that tested them, something that reminded them why they lived for the hunt.

The moment they reached the mission board, Seraphis’ sharp gaze scanned over the contracts. She ignored the lower-tiered assignments, bypassing anything that wouldn’t push her skills to the limit.

Then, she saw it.

A contract marked in black ink—reserved only for the most dangerous of targets.

She tore it from the board, reading the details aloud:

"A rogue faction of mercenaries has taken control of a vital trade route. Their leader, a former assassin, has become a liability. Terminate him. Proof of kill required—head or heart."

Seraphis smirked.

“This one.”

The twins read over her shoulder, exchanging glances before nodding. They didn’t need to question it. This was exactly what they were looking for.

The Journey

The road to their target was treacherous, weaving through dense forests and rocky terrain. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, and the sounds of the night surrounded them—owls hooting, rustling leaves, the distant cry of a wolf.

They moved like shadows. Silent. Deadly.

By the time they reached the hideout, dawn had begun to creep over the horizon, casting a dull glow against the misty clearing. The enemy’s base—a crumbling stone outpost—stood before them, torches flickering along its perimeter.

Seraphis crouched behind a fallen tree, scanning the scene. There were guards—eight, maybe more. Some stood at the entrance, others patrolled the upper levels. She narrowed her eyes.

“They're unprepared,” she whispered. “This will be quick.”

The First Kill

A single guard leaned against the wooden gate, barely alert. His posture was lax—an amateur mistake.

Seraphis moved first.

One fluid motion. One clean strike.

Her dagger slit his throat before he could make a sound. His body slumped against the wall, blood soaking the ground beneath him.

She didn’t stop.

Motioning to the twins, they split up, disappearing into the shadows like ghosts.

Silent Death

The first five mercenaries didn’t even realize they were under attack.

Seraphis weaved through the corridors, striking fast, her blades a blur in the dimly lit hallways. She silenced them all—quick, efficient, and without a drop of hesitation.

The twins were just as merciless. One of them slid behind an unsuspecting guard, severing his spine with a precise stab. The other crushed a skull against the stone wall, blood splattering in thick, dark streaks.

The Target Revealed

Then, they reached the main chamber.

The leader of the mercenaries stood at the center of the room, hunched over a table scattered with maps and documents. His armor gleamed under the dim torchlight, and his cold, calculating gaze lifted as Seraphis stepped inside.

A slow smirk spread across his lips.

“I was expecting someone,” he mused, straightening. His voice carried the weight of experience.

Seraphis met his stare, unshaken.

“I wasn’t expecting you to still be standing.”

The Fight Begins

The moment the last word left her lips, he lunged.

His sword whistled through the air—a strike meant to cleave her in two. Seraphis twisted to the side, feeling the wind of the blade brush past her ribs.

She countered.

Her daggers struck out, aiming for his ribs, but he blocked with unnatural speed. Sparks flew as steel met steel.

He was fast. Faster than she expected.

Trading Blows

They clashed—relentless, brutal, precise.

His strikes were heavy, calculated. He was a seasoned warrior, someone who had fought and survived countless battles. But Seraphis was faster.

She danced around him, dodging his lethal swings, her daggers aiming for every weak point in his stance.

He blocked. She countered. He attacked. She dodged.

The exchange was lightning-fast, a blur of motion and deadly precision.

The First Wound

Then, she saw an opening.

A slight misstep. A fraction of hesitation.

Seraphis drove her blade into his side.

The mercenary leader grunted, staggering back, his hand pressing against the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, but he didn’t falter.

Instead, he smiled.

A Desperate Last Stand

With a roar, he launched a final, desperate assault. His attacks became erratic, fueled by pain and adrenaline.

Seraphis ducked under a wide swing, spinning low before slicing across his thigh. He stumbled, his balance shifting.

She didn’t let him recover.

Her next strike was aimed at his throat.

The Finishing Blow

He tried to parry, but it was too late.

Her dagger sank deep into his neck, severing arteries, silencing him forever.

His eyes widened, realization dawning as his body gave out beneath him. A final, choked breath left his lips.

Then, he collapsed.

The Kill Confirmed

Seraphis didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed his hair, lifted his head, and with one clean motion, severed it from his shoulders.

The thud of the severed head hitting the ground was the only sound that followed.

Mission Complete

She turned to the twins, their blades still slick with blood.

Seraphis smirked, lifting the head of their fallen prey.

“Let’s collect our reward.”